Heb 12:15
See to it that no one misses the grace of God and that no bitter root grows
up to cause trouble and defile many.
Crawling on hands and knees, I curse
(quite Christianly) the ground cover I once thought innocuous. The former owner
of my home had planted it in the garden, and I, like a fool, thought it pretty.
Today, with mature beds this weed,
which I’ve recently learned is Snow-On-The-Mountain, has overrun my garden and
threatens to attack the town of Malone.
(Believe me, I’m not really to blame
for this take-over of Malone even I could have conquered the stupid green thing
with a mind of its own had I tried when it was small.)
To eliminate it, I have”
· Mulched
· Sprayed
· Prayed
· Torn both it and my hair out by its roots.
Despite these measures, when I leave
my pristine flower beds for a day, those little suckers have once more reared
their ugly leaves.
In order to annihilate this invasive
plant, I must root out every fiber of its root. A small section left in the
ground will set out tendrils and multiply exponentially.
So, too, is the sin in our lives. At
one time I thought sin was harmless. If you loved someone, then “love” him or
her physically. Man created gossip as a diversion. After all, we didn’t always
have iphones and ipads to amuse us. And of course, we understand, we are so
much better than the rest of society—like those who make front page news (of
the yucky sort).
Some sin can be conquered easily.
Our spouse may have let himself/herself go, but we understand it’s better to
not pursue our coworker. Other sins are
like my notorious Snow-On-The-Mountain. Their roots tangle about our being. We
pray, fast, confess, cover the stupid thing, and still it pops up.
Continually.
What can we do?
Pray, fast, confess, read Scripture,
and root it out. Unfortunately, some sin will always rear its enticing
head—because it does, indeed, often beguile us.
But most important is to know sin’s
nature. Don’t plant it. If we do, it will take over our lives.
Carol, I could SOOOOO relate to this post, having let the pretty Snow-on-the-Mountain grow up––and then overrun––our garden. The second year, when it started popping up and my husband wanted to annihilate every plant, I begged him to let me leave a few in select spots. He grudgingly agreed. But we made the mistake of letting it go to seed. So the next year we had the same problem. The next year he let me keep a few as long as we yanked them before the seed pods came on. That did the trick. The next year we had none.
ReplyDeleteGreat analogy to sin! Better not to entertain even the thought of sin!
What a great analagy (pretty sure it is spelt wrong) for our sin and our excuses for doing the wrong thing. Although I love the snow-on-the-mountain. I seem to like the weeds much better than the flowers. Thanks for your posts.
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